Harry Potter and the Rest of His Life
by rinzlerkitty
Summary: what happens after deathly hallows. harry goes on to work in the dept of magical law enforcement and ends up taking the case of draco malfoy to lessen his sentence in azkaban. eventual draco/harry


((A/N: I felt inspired after watching Deathly Hallows to go back to my first favorite fandom ever. Of course I have no idea if my work can even compare to some of the more amazing hp fic writers out there. So I'll go a couple of chapters and we'll just see what happens from there.))

Prologue

It was over.

Harry had spent his entire lifetime fighting, and now, finally, the conflict was over. It was _over. _He knew he ought to feel relieved, but looking around at the fifty or so witches and wizards that had died, all he could feel was empty. The sharp grief had dulled now into a throbbing ache, easier to ignore but somehow more painful.

Ron and Hermione had returned to Fred Weasley's side, but since Voldemort's death, there hadn't been any tears, just dry faces that were somehow hollow of all emotion. It was over, they ought to be happy, ought to be celebrating, but the price of victory had been almost too steep.

Unable to look any longer, Harry wrenched his gaze away, numb legs carrying him elsewhere without his conscious permission. After a few moments he found himself approaching the Malfoys. They were all huddled together and speaking in low voices. Draco was sitting between his parents, one hand entwined with his mother's and the other on his bleeding nose. Lucius had an arm around them both and, for the first time that Harry had known him, looked relieved, almost..._happy._

They all looked up at his approach. "Mrs. Malfoy," Harry heard himself saying. "I-I wanted to thank you for what you did, in the forest."

Narcissa nodded, quickly concealing her surprise. She didn't seem inclined to say anything in response, so Harry nodded back and turned away awkwardly.

"Wait."

He stopped after a few steps, glancing back in surprise at the familiar voice. Draco Malfoy had gotten to his feet, his cautious gray eyes watching Harry.

"Can I have a quick word?" he muttered, glancing back at his family for a moment. "Outside, where my parents can't hear."

Harry blinked in surprise. "Yeah, sure," he replied, confused. Usually when they were alone they tended to curse each other, yet somehow he doubted that was what Malfoy had in mind. His usual haughtiness seemed to have disappeared and there was an awkward sort of understanding between them.

They stepped out into the relative quiet of what had once been the entrance hall. Both were distracted from their purpose by the mess, each taking a moment to gaze around silently.

After a pause, Malfoy cleared his throat, and Harry turned back to face him. "I, uh, suppose I ought to thank you, Potter," he began, his pale cheeks going slightly pink. "You saved my life."

"Twice," Harry replied, though inside he was astonished. Draco Malfoy was thanking him? Hell must be freezing over somewhere.

Malfoy scowled slightly, touching his swollen nose. "Yes, I know. I'm trying to be _civil_ here, Potter, you could do me the favor of making this easier."

"Yeah, because you always worked so hard to make my life easy." A moment later he regretted the words. He'd learned tonight that Snape, whom he'd thought had wanted him dead, had actually been on his side all along. Maybe Malfoy would turn out to be a half decent person after all.

"Never mind that," Harry added hastily. "You're welcome, I guess. You saved my life back-back then, so let's just call it even." Malfoy's shudder made it perfectly clear that he remembered exactly what Harry was talking about.

The paler of the two said nothing in reply, instead taking a few steps through the rubble that littered the hall. Harry followed quietly, not really sure why he was spending more time with the man that had once been his rival than he absolutely had to. Maybe it was because things had changed. _They_ had changed. They were grown up now, more mature, and Harry found it easier to trust this older, more careworn Malfoy.

"Do you remember your first time walking through the entrance hall?"

Harry blinked in surprise. "Of course."

Malfoy didn't say anything more, instead stopping by the gaping hole where the doors had once been and just looking at them.

"I didn't ever really hate it," he admitted quietly. "This school."

Harry almost grinned. "It's taken you seven years to figure that out?"

Draco shrugged. "Seems like it, doesn't it."

This conversation was one of the oddest Harry had ever had. Malfoy was actually being...somewhat _nice._ And _likeable_. He wondered vaguely how long this would last before he was back to his arrogant self. Still, it was a nice change.

He left Malfoy at the doors and continued on outside to the sweeping lawn. Or at least, what used to be a lawn. Now it was littered with rubble from the castle and pieces of statues, tiny flames flickering every which way. He sighed quietly. It was going to take ages to rebuild Hogwarts.

A flash of movement caught his eye and he instinctively reached for his wand, but it was too late. A blinding, sickening pain caught him by the chest and threw him backwards, leaving him gasping amidst the rubble. Somewhere far in the distance he heard Malfoy shouting something, shooting back a spell at Harry's attacker, but a familiar whooshing sound told him he had already Disapparated.

The next surprise was the thump of a body beside him, and through half-closed eyelids he recognized Malfoy kneeling beside him, head turned back towards the castle as he called for help. There was blood on Draco's hands, he realized. His blood. Harry's blood.

He couldn't breathe properly. Harsh, rattling gasps shook him, making his chest scream in protest. His vision swam and blurred, before everything twisted sideways and upside down and suddenly he was alone in the dark.

xXx

It wasn't until a week and a half later that Harry finally woke in St. Mungo's, feeling sick and weak. His chest hurt, though now it was more of a dull throb. Wincing, he opened his eyes and put a hand to where it hurt most.

There was a soft gasp from beside him, and a moment later he realized that Molly Weasley was perched on the chair beside him, watching him closely. He smiled weakly, raising a hand.

"Hi Mrs. Weasley," Harry croaked, his voice hoarse.

"Oh, Harry dear!" she exclaimed in a loud whisper, taking his hand with both of hers and squeezing it lightly. "We've been so _worried_! How are you feeling?"

He tried to sit up more, but the pain in his chest prevented him from moving much, and he let out a short little gasp. Mrs Weasley winced in sympathy, nudging him back down. "I've had better days," Harry admitted, swallowing down the pain. "What happened?"

"Well, according to that Malfoy boy, there were several Death Eaters hiding in the rubble, and when you passed them, they-they cursed you." Her voice shook, and Harry realized what a terrible shock it must have been for her, especially since she'd just lost one of her sons. She'd said once before that he was as good as one of her own, and seeing him hurt was as terrible as seeing Ron hurt.

After a moment, she cleared her throat and went on. "Malfoy was there with you, and he yelled until others came running, and we were able to get you to to Mungo's."

Harry fell silent for a long moment, his eyes closing again as Mrs. Weasley gently stroked his ever-messy hair. He wondered how long she'd been sitting here with him, apparently alone, and a surge of affection for her rose up in his chest. She was, and always had been, the mother that he'd always wanted.

The silence stretched on, and he was just beginning to think that a short nap might do him good, when a new visitor strode into the ward. Harry opened his eyes at the sound of footsteps and was surprised to see Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Molly backed away from Harry and got to her feet, smiling tiredly. "Good to see you, Kingsley," she said warmly, shaking his hand.

"And you, Molly," he replied, smiling back. "Why don't you head back home? I'm sure your children are missing you."

"Oh, I-" She glanced distractedly back at Harry, who smiled and nodded.

"I'll be fine, Mrs. Weasley," he said reassuringly.

The redheaded woman leaned over Harry's bed and kissed him softly on the forehead before bustling out of the ward, wiping her eyes as she went. Harry's chest ached worse than ever, though this time he wasn't entirely sure why.

"Harry Potter, it is good to see you're back with the living," Kingsley said with a smile, sitting down in the seat that Molly had just abandoned.

Harry half smiled. "Yeah, looks like it."

"I've been appointed temporary Minister of Magic," he continued, watching Harry's face. "Though it seems the post will become permanent."

"Brilliant," he heard himself saying. "Wow. That's...that's great." After a moment the corners of his lips turned up in sheer amusement. "That'll make becoming an Auror easier. Having a Minister that's actually on my side, I mean."

Kingsley watched him carefully. "About that, Harry, there's something I need to tell you. That isn't a career path that is open to you any longer."

Harry blinked for a few moments before that sunk in. "S-sorry?" he stuttered. "What'd you mean?"

The newly appointed Minister sighed, brushing invisible dust off the knees of his robes before going on. "That curse, or curses in the plural, are not going to go away, Harry. They won't kill you," he added quickly, seeing the look on Harry's face. "But I can't guarantee that you won't be subject to fits every now and again. Your health, I'm afraid, does not permit you to work in such a field. As an Auror, an injury like that becomes a danger to both yourself, and others around you that will depend on you."

He rested a heavy hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing that can be done about it."

Harry didn't speak. After years and years of dreaming of becoming an Auror, battling Dark wizards, now the opportunity was being taken away from him without his permission. He didn't blame Kingsley. It wasn't his fault. He knew what it took to be an Auror, and if he said Harry was incapable of doing what he needed to be able to do, then there was nothing for it. That was just how it was.

But then again, did he even still _want_ to be an Auror? He'd had his fair share of fighting, of violence, and of death. Did he really want to keep doing that for the rest of his life? He was tired of the conflict. Maybe it was better to just find something else to do.

If not an Auror, then...what? He'd never really wanted to do anything else. It just hadn't felt like he had any other options. He was Harry Potter. He _had _to fight because that's what had been expected of him. Yet now he had a chance to actually _choose _what the rest of his life would be like, and he had absolutely no idea what he wanted.

He realized after a moment that Kingsley had been talking and forced himself to focus.

"-retiring from Hogwarts. Posts have already been taken up by Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood, and I thought perhaps you would want to take a post there as well. However," he looked very seriously at Harry now. "The Ministry is in bad shape. We could use you."

Harry frowned. "The Ministry?"

"We've lost most of the staff due to the war," Kingsley explained. "Either they've been killed, imprisioned, or in hiding. You would be a valuable asset. I might suggest the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"What, you mean like, me being a lawyer or something?"

His dark companion nodded. "Something like that. Just food for thought. I'll leave you to rest now."


End file.
